


Like Vines You Entangle Me

by ryekamasaki



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Fluff, Language of Flowers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 10:22:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9176758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryekamasaki/pseuds/ryekamasaki
Summary: Where Yaku is a florist and Oikawa is the tattoo artist next door.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Tattoo artist/florist AU, any characters?

Morisuke liked being a florist. He liked flowers, liked that each one had a different meaning, liked that a bouquet could mean a million different things just by changing a flower, or even just the color of one. Liked the looks on people’s faces when they gave him a situation or feeling and he returned it to them in flower form, perfect for whatever - or whoever - they wanted. He liked his little shop, sandwiched between a tiny cafe and a tattoo parlor, filled to the brim with colorful and vibrant flowers and plants and a million different papers and ribbons to wrap them in. He liked waking early and wandering down from his apartment above the shop, liked going next door for a fresh, hot coffee.

And though he probably wouldn’t admit it, at least not out loud, he liked the owner of the tattoo shop next door. He liked how cheery he was, though it could get annoying to hear him so loud in the summer when both their doors were left open. He liked that he sang to himself no matter if anyone could hear it, liked that he didn’t mind if anyone said anything to him about it. Liked the ink tattooed in sleeves on both his arms, stark, bold lines forming the delicate petals and stems and leaves twisting and splayed across his pale skin. They were deceptively lifelike, and Morisuke found himself often wanting to touch, to see if the inked petals were as soft and smooth as their real counterparts.

Oikawa is tall and gorgeous and probably miles out of Morisuke’s league, but he can’t resist anyway. Every morning Morisuke trims the various plants and flowers around the shop, picking out the flowers that only have a day or so left in their life, and he wraps them up all nice and neat with matching paper and a turquoise ribbon, because he knows that it’s Oikawa’s favorite color. Then, when Oikawa finally drifts about in his own shop, turning on lights and getting ready for the day, Morisuke personally delivers the bouquet straight into Oikawa’s long fingered, distracting hands. It’s the same every morning, Oikawa coos over them and sets them up in the single vase in the middle of the counter, and he thanks Morisuke with a smile.

Morisuke’s absolutely doomed. There is no way that Oikawa has any idea that Morisuke doesn’t just give anyone else fresh flowers every single morning without fail, and yet there’s no sign that he acknowledges Morisuke’s feelings either. The cafe next to Morisuke’s shop finds him there almost every morning, lamenting the failure of yet another bouquet of the day before, and though Suga is not really the most helpful person, he still finds himself there day after day, hoping for some other bit of advice.

“I really think you need to just tell him. I know he’s gorgeous, but he’s a gorgeous idiot.”

Morisuke groans against the counter he has his face in, ignores the bell that rings above the door when someone else comes in. He still has at least ten minutes before he’s supposed to open his shop, and he’s determined to spend them all exactly as he is now, until he absolutely has to put on a moderately happy face and go about his business. The other person is gone long before that, and Morisuke breathes a sigh against the countertop before scooping up his coffee and leaving with a vague wave.

He gets on with his routine, cutting and caring for each batch of flowers before bringing some to Oikawa, who exclaims over them as usual and puts them in his vase. It’s about halfway through the day when Oikawa shows up in the flower shop for once, looking a little nervous as he requests a bouquet made up of certain flowers. Morisuke tries not to let it get to him as he gathers each one as Oikawa lists them. Ivy, with the meaning of fidelity, friendship, and affection. Ambrosia, for reciprocated love, which pings a little bit of hopeless hurt in Morisuke’s heart. Red carnations, for admiration and ‘my heart aches for you’, which just makes the pain a little stronger. Pink and white camellias, ‘longing for you’ and ‘you’re adorable’ respectively. And white violets, which might make Morisuke really think about how far out of his reach Oikawa has always been, with their meaning of ‘let's take a chance on happiness’.

Oikawa pays and thanks him and disappears with only the warm breeze drifting in after him, and Morisuke makes himself as busy as he can the rest of the day, determined to stop thinking about Oikawa and Morisuke’s lack of a chance with him. He won’t stop bringing him the morning flowers, because at this point Oikawa expects it and it would be weirder if he just stopped, and the flowers deserve to have the attention before their lives are over anyway, but he’s going to stop himself from thinking any further than that. There’s no point when Oikawa obviously has his mind - and heart - set on someone already.

The day passes in a blur, Morisuke operating entirely on instinct and routine until he’s finally done and he can climb up the stairs to his tiny apartment and collapse on his threadbare couch. He’s not sure how long it is until there’s a knock at his door, but he doesn’t think it’s long enough. He hardly ever gets guests, and he sighs as he gets up to answer the door. Oikawa is there on the other side, just as flushed as he was earlier in the day, clutching the flowers that Morisuke had put together for him.

Oikawa holds the bouquet out at him and Morisuke blinks dumbly at it before Oikawa starts speaking. “I like you, too. I’m sorry I didn’t understand sooner.”

Morisuke can’t stop the smile from growing on his face, not when he takes the flowers and remembers what they all mean, applies them to himself instead of some nameless girl. He looks up at Oikawa’s red face, the uncertainty and hope, and does responds the only way his tired brain can think of. He hooks a finger in Oikawa’s collar, pulls him down while he shifts up on his toes, and then their lips are brushing, sweet and as soft as the petals of the flowers in his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come yell at me on [tumblr](http://matsukawa---issei.tumblr.com/).


End file.
